


kagaya ng dati

by kayselya



Category: El Filibusterismo, Noli Me Tangere & Related Works - José Rizal
Genre: 1960s-1970s, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Historical, Childhood Memories, English narration, F/M, Filipino dialogue, Fluff and Hurt/Comfort, Friends to Lovers, Late 1980s-modern time, Musical References, Slow Build, martial law au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-25
Updated: 2017-11-25
Packaged: 2019-02-06 15:01:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 17,892
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12820059
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kayselya/pseuds/kayselya
Summary: He once asked his mother if lost things would still find their way back in the end. Her answer was as clear as the gleam of freshwater under the blinding sun: the things we lose are never truly ours.When he told Juli this some years later, she didn't believe him."Edi maghanap ka kasi," she replied in that typical condescending tone. Basilio could believe in both, after all.





	kagaya ng dati

**Author's Note:**

> it'll remain a mystery how a fragile idea can evolve into a story you'll put another part of your soul into and just be carried away. it's always a good feeling.
> 
> i hope you'll like this as much as i loved (and hated) writing it, even in my most trying nights. i neither expected it to be this long nor this investing on my part. it's all rizal's fault. he never did write how this pair came to be. i can only imagine that maybe in a different time, theirs is a promising story worth telling.
> 
> for the el fili fandom on twitter, i hope this would suffice for the appreciation days i missed.
> 
> p.s. remember who your real heroes are. it's that time of the year again when most of us seem to forget.
> 
> and as for the accompanying playlist that helped me in building this fic up, go [here](https://open.spotify.com/user/selyagee/playlist/1w8VBF3SRC3WPg5LtD7cMR).

Basilio remembered how it began: in a town that so few people knew, in the fields of Tiani, in its breeze carrying the aroma of morning dew and of her scent whenever she was close. He stood before the granite wall, trailing his fingers along engraved golden letters of too many a name. The mania of the city blared from behind, jeepneys honked, drivers cursed, and the latest anthem of the generation erupted from the stereos. He no longer needed to shut his eyes or his mind－he could see his nostalgic town, could smell what his memory was already familiar with.

 

Adjusting the glasses on the bridge of his nose, he let his hand fall and walked back to the exit. Here, at the railing of the gates, he tied a black ribbon. Basilio crossed Quezon Avenue as the pedestrian light turned green. The nearest barker on the sidewalk shouted of available seats.

 

He glanced back because he could never help it－just as he always did every single year. He didn't realize he had shed a tear until he took his seat inside the idle jeepney.

 

.

 

1964

 

Juli was hiding behind her father. At the door, dressed in his usual best, was Kapitan Tiago. She suspected it was Sunday, for Kapitan Tiago was holding his spangled tinali with one hand and clasping the hand of a boy with his other. As the older men talked of a bet that her father wished to take no part in, Juli observed the boy. He was of the same height as her; his hair was cropped in the shape of a tabo turned upside down; his eyes seemed sad; it looked like he rarely smiled. She waved at him, cautious but still friendly. The boy simply averted his gaze, adjusting the collar of his polo shirt as though it was too suffocating. _Suplado_ , Juli thought, sticking her tongue out at him. The boy frowned. Before she could retaliate, her father was nudging her at his side.

 

"Magpakilala ka," he said. Juli was the next to frown. "Inampon siya ni Kapitan Tiago. Sa atin muna si Basilio hanggang matapos ang kapitan sa lakad niya."

 

Whatever hostility she had had prior, it was replaced by a surge partly of pity and of curiosity. Juli stepped out of her father's shadow. He had on him the stern look, anyway; something she had learned to never cross. Telesforo de Dios rarely let loose his temper, and Juli did not want this day to be one of those rare instances. She waved at the boy, at _Basilio_ , again. This time, he lifted a corner of his lips to meekly smile.

 

"Juliana," she said. Basilio nodded. "Pero Juli na lang."

 

The next thing Basilio knew, soft hands smaller than his were dragging him to what Juliana mentioned was her favorite bayabas tree.

 

.

 

_He remembered Juli falling off the mabolo tree situated near the river. Her short hands couldn't reach the fruit, and the branch she grasped on cracked until it tumbled to the ground－debris of leaves and twigs showering Basilio. Juli broke an elbow, her left, and he was quick to calm her down; already using his shirt as a cast. Juli could be an incessant moaner, complaining of pains beyond the dislocated joint. Still, a couple of mabolo fruit fell; and she was kept quiet eating them on the way home._

_They both got a scolding from Mang Tales, but for the most part Juli was the recipient. The elders called on the albularyo, and the rest of the afternoon became a hodgepodge of plant medicine and superstitious warnings of joints unable to come back to their original state. Juli recovered after a month, and she was back to freely flailing her arms about, running to chase the setting sun with a kite or paper airplane._

_The river between the fields and the mountain was their kingdom, where carabaos and people could frolic in its waters as the current flowed downstream. In the night, the stars were incomparable to the dancing fireflies._

_Basilio was ten when he began to admire the fact that man was but a tiny, in actuality an insignificant part, of nature._

 

.

 

1965

 

Basilio hated playing tagu-taguan with Juli. It was downright injustice to have her repay him thus; because after all, Basilio was not once hesitant in helping her in her schoolwork. Juli was a sore loser and an arrogant victor whenever they played any game. She wouldn't talk to him until after siesta time when he'd win, and would rub the victory on his face when she'd _be_ the one to win even if by a single point. But tagu-taguan in particular was Basilio's weakness and Juli's strength (albeit a cheater when she felt like so). There was one time when Basilio stressed on the rules ("Bawal magtago lagpas ng ilog,") but Juli broke them and still crossed the bridge. After that noonday desperately looking for her, Basilio was near giving up when Juli surprised him from behind. She had the last laugh.

 

"Bakit ako na naman ang taya?" Basilio asked, scratching his head. They chose a huge rock as base. He had asked Juli's younger brother Tano to join them just so the game could be more even, but Tano would rather help Mang Tales in the farm. When Basilio suggested mataya-taya instead, Juli was persistent it be tagu-taguan.

 

"Basta!" answered Juli. She had a crown of santan on her hair, somewhat tangled in her curls. She pushed Basilio to face the rock and count to fifty. The boy could only sigh in acquiescence. He covered his eyes with his hands and leaned on the rock. Juli burst into a run at Basilio's _isa_. They had the whole clearing of the forest this time around, though Juli reckoned the sound of her feet against the leaves would prove it easier to find her.

 

At the count of ten, she located her spot. She quickly slid each tsinelas through her arm and hoisted herself up the trunk. She had about twenty more counts to settle on a sturdy branch and wait. Basilio's counting was growing fainter, a strategy of his to make Juli lose track. At the fiftieth count, Basilio's voice was a shout, and Juli pursed her lips in anticipation.

 

"Si Juli, si Juli, palaging nahuhuli..." Basilio started singing a tune he made up, another tactic of his to provoke her. But Juli already learned from a past mistake, when she had defiantly blurted _"Hindi kaya!"_ and Basilio caught her behind a bush. The trap may be good and Basilio smart, but Juli had her wit and resourcefulness that Basilio couldn't match.

 

Down below, Basilio kept muttering _tabi-tabi po_  and peeking into the trees. He reached one and observed the oddness of it: there was a piece of santan, red against the brown leaves. He picked it up and, smiling, decided to prolong Juli's satisfaction before he'd take the win home. He feigned going in another direction, twirling the santan through his fingers, and circled the tree where Juli was. He sat on the roots.

 

Juli almost snorted, _Ang bulag mo naman_. She was in the middle of holding back a giggle when what Basilio said next nearly made her fall off the branch.

 

"Bumaba ka na diyan, Juliana."

 

To cut the long story short, Juli was wearing a perpetual frown when she got down and snatched the santan from Basilio. She led the way out the forest, stomping through the pathway barefooted, as Basilio retained a smirk on his face. They crossed the bridge above the narrow river and were in the fields again, the sun kissing their skins. Juli wore her tsinelas and ran along the strip, past the farmers planting, past her father sending a quick greeting. Basilio could only chuckle (it always entertained him when Juli was angry), and ran after her towards the house at the end.

 

"Nagtatampo na naman si Juliana!" he said breathlessly, landing on the bamboo bench beside her. Juli lengthened the space between them, only to have Basilio scooting closer and rubbing his elbow against her. "Uy 'wag ka na mapikon."

 

"Umuwi ka na," she told him, never glancing up. Basilio laughed. It was merely two in the afternoon and they had enough time to spare before siesta.

 

"Paanong uuwi eh 'di ba magpapatulong ka pa sa assignment mo?" He cocked his head to the side and gave her a pinch. Juli wasn't able to hide the discreet smile from his keen eye. Basilio had only known her for a year, but the day to day rush of heading straight to Juli's after school was sufficient to memorize her temperament like how he'd memorize dates and terms from history and science.

 

Kapitan Tiago often complained that Basilio was rarely in his own home, his _new_ home, to which Basilio remarked that the kapitan too was rarely at home. The kapitan would just shrug in defeat, ruffle the boy's hair, and go back to his paperwork. Basilio had all the time in the world to head over to Juli's. Tatang Selo, Juli's grandfather, would make the best biko he had ever tasted. The old man was also kind enough to show him how to properly make a walis tambo. Basilio would volunteer to help in the field, even for just a while, because he had known that Mang Tales didn't want Juli to work.

 

"Maganda 'yang si Juli. Hindi siya dapat nagtatrabaho dito. Sa bahay lang," Mang Tales used to say.

 

Basilio had also known that Kapitan Tiago was the benefactor of Juli's family. The kapitan owned the land where they tilled for ages, and judging from the friendship of Mang Tales and Kapitan Tiago, Basilio surmised it was a healthy one. Mang Tales received enough income and a part of the harvest, and Kapitan Tiago was philanthropic enough to provide for irrigation and for the scholarship of both children in the family. Juli once explained that she wouldn't trade this simple life for another.

 

"Juli," Basilio spoke after an eerie pause. "Hindi ba nung minsang nagkasal-kasalan tayo sabi mo papakasalan mo talaga ako balang araw?" His smile turned smug.

 

"Wala akong sinabing ganun ah." Juli finally looked up, furrowing her eyebrows at him. She hated it when he was being cheeky all of a sudden.

 

"Meron kaya."

 

"Panaginip mo lang yun."

 

"Panaginip na pwedeng-pwede matupad."

 

"Bahala ka diyan." Juli stood and walked to the back of the house, leaving the crown of santan behind. They were ten years old at the time, how could Basilio take that childish wedding vow seriously? After knowing him more, Juli began to slowly take the promise back. She contented herself into concluding that marriage was a complicated affair she'd have to deal with soon, but not now.

 

Basilio followed, laying the crown again on her hair and removing a stray leaf near her ear: "Tuparin mo yun ha." Juli squinted at that, wondering how it would work to have the woman asking for the other's hand in marriage. She entered through the back door, immediately reaching for the radio on the table and turning it on. Her favorite station was playing _All My Loving_ , and that was all it took to lift her spirits back up. From the front of the house, her grandfather whistled the song, as he and Basilio bundled up sticks for the next set of brooms. Juli disappeared in the kitchen to prepare merienda.

 

"Uy Juliana tuparin mo yun ha!" Basilio called out. Juli peeped from the curtains.

 

"Manahimik ka, kumakanta si Paul McCartney!"

 

Basilio declared her answer as a yes.

 

.

 

_He remembered reviewing with Juli for a test. He was competing with her on who could recite the Philippine presidents the fastest, from the first to the third republic._

_"Aguinaldo, Quezon, Laurel, Osmeña－" Juli recited them all, not pausing to catch her breath. "－Roxas, Quirino, Magsaysay, Garcia, Macapagal!"_

_Basilio lost by two seconds. The deal was to treat the winner with bibingka._

_"Tingin mo kaya," he started once Juli was done celebrating her victory. "Sino susunod na presidente?"_

_"Baka si Macapagal ulit?"_

_"Pustahan?"_

_"Dalawang piso."_

 

.

 

1966

 

Juli locked herself in the house. She couldn't dare go outside despite Basilio's urging her to come quickly to the river. It was summer, the heat unbearable; and even though she had agreed the previous night for today's excursion, what greeted her this morning was appalling. She woke up to red-stained sheets and feared she was sick. She wasn't in the right state of mind to tell Tatang Selo, Tano, let alone her father. The news would shock them: What would they say? They were poor, how could she be cured? If Basilio found out it would worry him to death. Death－was she dying?

 

"Juli, ba't ang tagal mo?" She heard Basilio from the other side of the door, knocking. She knocked back, signaling for him to wait, and hurried to change her clothes. Juli draped the blanket over her bed; she could worry how to wash the sheets later. She dumped her stained clothes and underwear at the most bottom layer of the hamper; nobody could find that there. Muttering a succinct prayer to God that the bleeding would stop even for today (and her clothes be unstained), she opened the door.

 

"Hindi ka naman makapaghintay."

 

"Good morning din sa'yo!" Basilio was all cheers, but Juli was unaffected. He looked at her as though he saw something different. "Ay masungit ka yata ngayon?"

 

"Para namang 'di ka pa sanay," she irritatingly replied, dragging him by the hand and out the house. "Halika na nga!"

 

The two bickered on the way, with Basilio persisting that something was entirely different about Juli ("Ba't parang nahihirapan ka yata maglakad?") She didn't entertain his queries, simply frowned and changed the topic, until Basilio eventually conceded. He went on talking about what Kapitan Tiago said to him the other night, how the old man wanted him to be a doctor and study in Manila. Juli's expression turned from sour to surprised. She asked, panic rising, if he'd leave soon. It bothered her how Basilio could talk about something wholly life-changing like it was nothing.

 

"Bakit sa Maynila pa? Nandyan naman ang Los Baños."

 

"Matagal pa naman!"

 

"Pagkatapos natin ng high school?"

 

Basilio nodded. Well at least that was a relief Juli could hold on to; they still had to finish grade school at the moment. She continued to ask him if he wanted to be a doctor, or if he was only submitting to Kapitan Tiago's wishes. Basilio's cheery disposition waned a bit; he didn't have a snappy remark to the question.

 

"Hindi naman sa gustong-gusto ko mag-doktor," he started, letting his eyes wander at the vast scenery beyond them. "Pero mas mabuti nang may plano kaysa wala. Hindi ko rin naman talaga alam kung ano gusto ko eh. Alam mo ba, pangarap ko no'n sa nakababatang kapatid ko na siya ang magiging doktor sa'min sa pamilya?"

 

Juli was dumbfounded. Basilio rarely talked about his family. She had been reminded by her father that asking about an orphan's past was rude, and so she never tried. The closest she got to catching wind of Basilio's past was when she visited Kapitan Tiago's house on a Christimas Day, only to be told by the maid that Basilio was accompanied to visit the grave of his mother. She left the house, Basilio's gift intact and unwrapped, all the while realizing how it must have been sad for him to lose a mother on Christmas. Juli had lost her own mother too, at Tano's birth, but she reckoned Basilio's story was much much different.

 

"Palagi mo ba silang naaalala?"

 

Basilio smiled－that sad kind of smile where the eyes told otherwise. They reached the bank of the river, with its gushing water seemingly whispering words only he could hear. He picked up a rock and threw it in.

 

"Oo," he responded, looking over to Juli beside him. "Natatakot kasi ako."

 

"Natatakot?" Juli dropped her gaze from the ripple the stone made and glanced at him. She was always intrigued at how Basilio could appear so calm, so collected when she was certain there's a storm surging within him. Basilio could be happy, he was everytime she saw him, but she had no inkling what went on in his head when he had to be left alone. What did he dream about? Could he recall every minute detail there was from his memories of the past? To Juli, Basilio seemed content, like he knew he was utterly powerless in the hands of fate and so he just bows to it－just accepts this silent suffering woven with fragments of bliss.

 

Basilio sighed, throwing a last rock. "Natatakot akong malimutan mga mukha nila."

 

And Juli knew that was the end of the topic: Basilio beamed again, was lively again like the spontaneous changing of the wind. He proceeded to take off his shirt in a haste. Juli's worries resurfaced and Basilio, noticing her indifference to his excitement, wondered aloud.

 

"'Di ka maliligo?"

 

"Ayoko."

 

"Huh?"

 

Juli shook her head repeatedly as Basilio pulled her to the river. Her vain attempts to untangle from him were overpowered by his teasing her that she wasn't a cat who didn't have to be afraid of the water. In the midst of her struggle (Basilio resorted to splashing water all over her), Juli fell to the ground. Her behind hit the soil first, and she felt a dampness on this sore spot.

 

"Sinabing ayoko eh!" She started hitting Basilio as the latter helped her up, trying his best not to break into laughs. A quick glance at her back, Juli's breath hitched at the sight of the same red stain imprinted like a continent on a map. Basilio followed her gaze. She slipped away from him, but it was too late.

 

"Nakita mo?" she almost squealed, clutching the flowery print of her dress from the back. "Paggising ko nakita ko na lang seryoso ako hindi ko alam kung paanong nangyari paano ko sasabihin kay papa at kay－"

 

"Juli."

 

"-tatang anong ibig sabihin nito hindi ko talaga alam hin－"

 

"Juliana!"

 

"Ano?" she shouted, lips trembling, and only found out she was already crying. Basilio approached her and laid his hands on her shoulders, stilling her to breathe slowly. He was grinning. "Anong nakakatawa?"

 

"Wala kang dapat ikatakot dahil normal lang 'yan."

 

"Anong normal? Dinudugo ako, anong normal dun?"

 

"Hindi mo talaga alam?"

 

"Sabihin mo na lang kasi!"

 

Basilio couldn't contain it anymore. He laughed, and he laughed. Juli picked up whatever rock she could find－big or small, it didn't matter－and threw it at him, though missing by an inch. He recovered soon enough and gave Juli a pat on the head.

 

"Sabi sa'kin ni inay noon na kapag dumating na ang takdang panahon, may espesyal na dalaw ang babae," he explained, as though talking to a child. "Ibig sabihin nito dalaga na siya. Itong dalaw niya, bawat buwan pumupunta. Kaya, Juliana, ibig sabihin niyan dalaga ka na."

 

Juli didn't sense the logic behind it. Why did women have to bleed for them to be considered, officially, a lady? And how come Basilio, a man, knew all about it?

 

"Hindi ko alam," she murmured, her shame doubling. "Wala namang nagsabi sa'kin ng ganyan. Hindi ko naman nakausap si mama kahit kailan. Hindi ko na siya maalala. Ako lang din naman ang babae sa pamilya."

 

Juli's vision turned into a watery blur. She sobbed, sniffing as her shoulders shook, and Basilio didn't know what to do. He knew exactly what to say whenever she was mad at him, but he had not ever teased Juli to the point of her crying. Right then and there, Basilio understood that he was lucky he knew his mother even for only a span of ten years. He took Juli's hand, pressing it gently, and wiped her tears with his other. He didn't know what to say, but somehow to say nothing was the best.

 

"Tahan na," he whispered and let Juli catch her breath until her sobbing grew fainter. "Hindi na tayo maliligo kung mas gusto mo 'yon. Manguha na lang tayo ng mangga at magtampisaw diyan sa mababaw na parte. Ayos na?"

 

Juli reconciled with a nod. That was the day she knew she couldn't imagine any other profession for Basilio: he would make a great doctor.

 

.

 

_He remembered when he revealed their names to Juli. The two were at the graveyard (at Juli's insistence), leaping from coffin to coffin, until they reached the desolate spot under a balete tree._

_"Si Crispin at si 'Nay Sisa."_

_"Kasing ganda siguro niya ang pangalan niya."_

_Juli laid the flowers she picked on their tombstones. She crossed herself and whispered a quick prayer. Basilio lighted the candles they brought._

_"Anong paboritong pagkain ni Crispin?" Juli asked him._

_"Kahit ano namang ihanda kinakain niya. Pero… tuyo."_

_"Dalhan natin siya 'pag bumisita tayo ulit."_

 

.

 

1967

 

Basilio disliked this uneasy feeling. When everyday, five times a week, he did fetch Juli on the way to school, she had been taking a longer time than usual to prepare. He disliked not this uneasy feeling of getting impatient in fear of their getting late, but the feeling settling in his stomach when she'd exit the door. He'd see Juli sporting a different hairstyle. And even if it had become endearing to him when she'd wear her hair down, Basilio couldn't deny that he liked Juli wearing her hair up: either in a braid, a neat bun, or a ponytail elegantly flowing towards the small of her back. He swore he had a heavy breakfast when he left the house, but would begin questioning that fact as he felt his insides tumble into a whirling mess. Juli would casually greet him with her radiant smile, ever more glowing and oblivious to his torment.

 

This morning Juli's lips were pink and more pronounced, that Basilio's eloquence was momentarily snatched from him. They took their usual route, greeting Manang Bali as she opened her store, and did their routine of recalling what assignments were due: if there were any tests to review on, or recitations to expect. Basilio hummed and murmured, his attention evidently fixed on Juli, but his thoughts were on a world of their own. Juli had to stop midway and snap her fingers on his face.

 

"Nakikinig ka ba?"

 

"Uh-huh."

 

"O siya. 'Wag mo kong malapit-lapitan mamaya para magpatulong sa Filipino."

 

"Hm."

 

Upon reaching the school, noisy as ever with its younger students running about and its older ones up to their rowdy antics, Basilio was confronted with another thing he had begun to hate these days: their classmates were now teasing him and Juli. It irked him, defending his case relentlessly that he and Juli were no more than friends. This exact defense also made them all the more annoying, pressing him on to further confession. Juli knew better of course－she always did. She didn't mind them one bit.

 

"Hayaan mong isipin nila ang gusto nilang isipin," she remided him once during recess, as they were eating together and taunting classmates circled them.

 

That 6:30am was no different. It turned out that this band of classmates waited for their entrance at the gate. Juli just raised her chin up and walked on, Basilio in tow. She was the one to constantly wake him back to reality, that this was their last year in grade school and that they needed to start thinking of crucial choices as part of growing up. Petty gossip on who's with who was not included.

 

The day passed by in its course of learning from the book and of taking the teacher's word for gospel truth. Surprisingly, Basilio and Juli were left in peace. By the end of their afternoon classes, the sun was setting. Nights were then longer, the cold lingering in this secluded town as a prelude to the Christmas season. They walked back home, yawning and dragging their feet on the unpaved road. They'd talk about anything not related to academics. Under the blues and violets of the takipsilim, Basilio asked about dreams.

 

"Naiinis ako 'pag nagiging sentimental ka," Juli pointed out. He chuckled. "Pero dahil pang Miss Universe 'yang tanong mo, syempre sasagutin ko nang mabuti."

 

They were alone in the street save for a wandering dog. Juli strutted to the center, took her water bottle from her bag, and positioned herself like the beauty queens she saw in newspapers and magazines. She used the bottle as her microphone, mimicking the plastered smiles of confident ladies she admired. Basilio seized the role of an awed audience standing back, ready to applaud for his bet.

 

"Maraming salamat po sa tanong ninyo."

 

"English, Juli!"

 

"Thank you, from the bottom of my heart, for that wonderful question." Juli cleared her throat. "My life-long dream is not money or popularity. It is a simple dream for a young lady like me. I dream of traveling to Baguio City with my loved ones, because Tiani is not that cold during Christmas. That is all."

 

She bowed and Basilio showered her with applause. Both burst into laughs, with Juli strutting back beside him, and she pointed the bottle at him. Basilio took it. Come to think of it, he had so many hopes and dreams to choose from that he didn't know where to begin. Would it be to see his mother and his brother again? Eternal peace for the world? Stability for the country? Be as famous as The Beatles or Simon and Garfunkel? Juli waited for his answer with a brimming eagerness.

 

"Ang pangarap ko－"

 

"English!"

 

"Hindi naman ako kasali sa contest!"

 

"O siya!"

 

Basilio sighed, rolling his eyes at her. "Ang pangarap ko... ay makapunta ng Maynila. At makapag-aral sa magandang unibersidad. Saka makapagtapos. Para pagbalik ko rito sa Tiani, matutulungan ko ang mga kababayan ko."

 

Juli clapped, slowly, but appeared dissatisfied. "Bakit ba lahat ng tao gusto makapunta ng Maynila?" She retrieved the bottle from him and started on their way.

 

"Kasi nandun lahat? Hindi naman sa lahat, pero halos lahat ng gusto ng isang tao."

 

"Pero hindi ko naman gusto magpunta ng Maynila."

 

"Sinasabi mo lang 'yan ngayon."

 

"Pero hindi talaga!" Juli slapped him on the arm. "Sabi ni papa magulo sa Maynila. Maingay, mausok, lahat ng tao nagmamadali. Maraming basura, konti ang puno, at siksikan yung mga lugar. Gusto mo ba talaga makipagsiksikan dun?"

 

Basilio, in turn, pinched her nose. "Para makapag-aral? Edi sakripisyo ko na yun."

 

"Sabi mo yan ha," Juli singsonged. "Na kakayanin mo. 'Wag na 'wag mo kong mamimiss pag umalis ka na."

 

"At bakit naman kita mamimiss?"

 

"Kasi iba ang ganda ko sa mga taga-Maynila."

 

Basilio rolled his eyes again. What she said was nothing but the truth.

 

.

 

_He remembered asking Kapitan Tiago why the men in their town were crazy about the cockpit. Was it not like boxing, but instead with ferocious birds?_

_"Kapag dalawang tao ang magkalaban," the old man elaborated, sharpening the blades of his red tinali. "Pwede itong madaya. Tao sila eh. Pero kapag dalawang manok, kitang-kita na patas ang laban. Pwera na lang kung nandaraya ang mga nagmamay-ari sa kanila. 'Yon ang pinagkaiba ng mga hayop sa tao."_

_Basilio still couldn't understand why men would pay thousands to millions of pesos just to watch roosters fight each other to a bloody death._

_"Kaysa naman tao ang magpatayan, hindi ba?" Kapitan Tiago answered him._

 

.

 

1968

 

Juli was noticing changes on her brother. Tano was only a year younger than her, yet he had a mind she deemed not fitting for his age. Tano helped a lot in the fields, often to the detriment of his studies. He had more days marked as absent than present in class. He showed a lack of interest in his grades. Although their father complained and reprimanded him for it, the head of the house didn't really do anything to stop it: he needed his son around, and Tano wasn't being forced to. Tano was too willing to work, and that was the problem.

 

Juli cornered him one night after dinner, when he had been delivering plates to the sink. "Tano, gusto mo pa ba mag-aral? Sayang ang scholarship mo kay kapitan."

 

"Sa totoo lang, ate, wala rin naman akong natututunan sa 'skwela."

 

Sometimes－no, most of the time－Juli wanted to know why Tano wasn't the older one. The way he spoke was succinct, rational and true, that it scared Juli how powerful her brother's words could be. It seemed to her that the single school in their town was unworthy to have someone like him. Tano was made to excel, but he'd rather stay where he was and just commit to filial duty.

 

Juli twisted the tap of the faucet, while Tano cleared the plates. "Bakit mo naman nasabi 'yan? Hindi ba magaling mga teacher mo? Hindi mo ba nakakasundo mga kaklase mo? May umaaway ba sa'yo?"

 

"Nawawalan lang talaga ako ng gana." He shrugged. But didn't Juli frequently see him poring over his books, over newspapers he borrowed from their neighbors?

 

Before Juli could ask further, Tano－what with his brief replies and reserved demeanor－told her _why_. Juli could never for the life of her forget what he said.

 

"Hindi ko lang kasi maintindihan na bakit parang salungat naman yung tinuturo ng mga teacher ko sa nangyayari sa'tin. Palagi nilang sinasabi na mag-aral nang mabuti, dapat masipag ka, dapat magpursigi. Pero para saan? Para yumaman tapos magtrabaho sa siyudad? Maayos naman tayo dito, 'di ba?"

 

She twisted the faucet shut. "Oo naman, Tano, pero saan nanggagaling 'yang mga sinasabi mo? Kailangan nating mag-aral. Yun ang dapat. Pag nakatapos ka, hindi naman ibig sabihin no'n luluwas ka. Pwedeng dito ka lang, tutulong kay papa at kay tatang. Dito lang tayo."

 

Tano was unable to reply. He muttered a good night and kept himself in his room. It wasn't until midnight when the light from Tano's room, adjacent to Juli's and more cramped, turned off. Tatang Selo and their father slept soundly from the living room below. But Juli, tossing on her bed, could still hear shuffling of papers and a dim glow of candlelight protruding from the slit of her door.

 

She spoke of her dread to Basilio come morning. He couldn't muster a response either.

 

.

 

_He remembered one Sunday morning when he was carrying a broom to the sala, and Kapitan Tiago wearing a horror-stricken face in seeing him._

_"Huwag kang magwawalis!"_

_"Bakit po?"_

_"Bawal magwalis sa araw ng sabong at baka mawalis din ang swerte!"_

_The kapitan also said once that he'd make a good kristo. Basilio was confused: wasn't Jesus Christ the epitome of all things good? Kapitan Tiago explained that there were kristos, mortal ones, in this world too._

_"Sila talaga ang mga hari ng ruweda. Matatalas ang memorya, mas malakas pa ang mga boses kaysa sa'min. Inaalala nila ang bawat taya mo, ang mukha mo, at bawat galaw doon."_

_To work as a kristo appealed to him as prestigious. Basilio could effortlessly memorize any detail given to him. The old man coughed a laugh._

_"Pero hindi mo 'yon tadhana, Basilio. Ang tadhana mo nasa siyudad, malayo dito."_

 

.

 

1969

 

Basilio heard the rumors first on his way to Manang Bali's store. Passers-by kept glancing at him, whispering to each other, and he was sure he heard－however discreetly and briefly－the name of his foster parent. He later confirmed the whole narrative once he arrived at the store. Manang Bali was the town's trusted source of gossip: she knew every intrigue there was to unearth and to pepper with all sorts of twists, yet keeping part of the truth untarnished. She was too preoccupied chatting away with a fellow spinster that morning, unaware of the presence of Basilio when he purchased a loaf of bread. But even if she was too busy blabbering, her experienced hand in the store still returned Basilio's exact change.

 

"Ay naku!" Her tone was shrill as she furiously fanned herself. "Sinasabi ko na, kumare! Matapos ng kapitan sa derby kagabi, nag-iinom siya diyan sa harap ng tindahan ko! At 'eto pa kamo, nabalitaan ko sa tindero ng balut na ang laki ng talo niya! Sinasabi ko na, kumare. Lubog na lubog na si Kapitan Tiago sa utang. Hindi magtatagal ibebenta na niya ang lupa!"

 

Basilio ran as fast as his legs could take him. From what he remembered of last night, Kapitan Tiago did arrive home late. But that was a normal occurrence, was it not? A day didn't pass when the kapitan did not come home past midnight. Basilio could recall so few a time when he was greeted by the old man at home. It was always the case of Basilio leaving and coming back first, and Kapitan Tiago staying for the morning and absent throughout the night. When Basilio had asked of this, the kapitan just reasoned that work needed him in Los Baños. And during weekends, Basilio didn't have to ask: the kapitan was certainly at the sabungan, winning bet after bet, with his prized fightingcock.

 

Basilio's doubts were not at all extinguished as he ascended the stairs of the house he would never get used to. They were only propelled to further heights in seeing Kapitan Tiago motionless on a rocking chair that didn't move, eyes distant as he witnessed the day before him unfurl. The kapitan had locked himself in his study since crashing on the doorstep at 2am. Basilio heard shouting, but he was asleep and thought of it as a dream. For all the years he knew Kapitan Tiago, the old man would never cease to be an enigma to him.

 

Basilio placed the bread on the stool, contemplating on whether or not he should talk to him. The rocking chair now moved, its motions causing shadows to be cast on the one portrait in the house that was as big as the wall. The beautiful young lady on it had her immortal smile, as though consoling whatever trouble the kapitan had. After a moment ticked by, Kapitan Tiago spoke－his voice hoarse and lamenting.

 

"Huwag na huwag kang tutulad sa akin, Basilio." The eyes were unblinking behind round glasses, waiting for the right signal to crash and shed their share of tears. His next words were not addressed to Basilio anymore. "Patawad, anak ko! Patawarin mo ko. Hindi ko kayang tumigil... hindi ko kaya... kung nandito ka lang para sabihin sa'kin kung ano ang tama... kung nandito ka lang... o anong mukhang ihaharap ko kay Tales?"

 

That was the first time Basilio saw him cry－a doleful wail imploring the heavens for mercy, choking through battered breath, and cursing the lips and the flesh to tremble under the weight of such a trial. Basilio lunged forward, clasping Kapitan Tiago's hand, but his words proved to be of no use. The kapitan kept muttering names－Maria Clara, Pia, Isabel－names which Basilio only heard of when he would calm the old man during fits of a nightmare.

 

Since then, Kapitan Tiago ordered that the portrait be moved to his study. He still shut himself out. But the boy, now fifteen years of age, feared it was for good this time. Basilio's days changed to hearing glass broken, stifled cries, angry shouts at the servants, labored coughing, and the putrid smell of smoke emanating from the room. His visits to Juli had lessened, a truth he didn't wish to accept. Because now, more than ever, Juli's family－devastated as he was by the news－needed him too.

 

.

 

_He remembered the first time he saw a television set. Kapitan Tiago was able to procure one, and his household was as excited in placing it at the centermost part of the sala. All the neighbors hustled to the windows, eager to catch a glimpse of this magical box. Basilio was the one to flip it on. There was deafening static, black and white squares dotted like restless ants on the screen, until the channels were changed and the evening news appeared._

_The news anchor spoke of a demonstration gone amok. It was the president's state of the nation address; and upon exiting the legislative building in Ermita an angry mob cornered him from all sides, hurling both expletives and materials used in the protest against the din of chants. The footage zoomed in on an effigy burning, at the police pacifying the crowd, and Basilio could see them all in technicolor._

_Later in life he pondered on the significance of what would become this series of uprisings: why it was named that and how the word 'sigwa' implicated stronger feelings than 'storm.' Like the moon, its phase was the first quarter－a part of the whole. It surely wouldn't be the last._

 

.

 

1970

 

Juli had been waiting for Basilio to come to her and ask for a dance. But no matter how hard she tried catching his attention by walking all over the hall in her heels and subtly standing close to him in her dress, he wouldn't bat an eye. He would still be fixed on the night's programme, clutching a clipboard and sending out instructions to his fellow student council officers. Juli wondered that if she had not given her full support on Basilio's campaign then he wouldn't be so busy as to ignore her. Nonetheless, she grew tired and planted herself on a chair. The boys she danced with were no good either: not one exited the dance floor without giving her an aching sole. Four left feet dancing was just a sheer pitiable state to tolerate, she concluded.

 

Juli watched the rest of her batchmates, giddy and childlike, with their partners swaying to a slow tune. The lights danced along too, circling and illuminating every corner of the school gymnasium. Plastic crowns and sashes were laid atop a table on the stage. From there, the backdrop imposed itself in colored streamers and letters cut out of styrofoam. Balloons were littered about, draped tables circled the dance floor, and speakers surrounded them all. Funny how this night in her junior year was supposed to be as exciting as she imagined, but Juli just wanted to go home.

 

When she expressed her disinterest for the high school dance, her father didn't take any of her excuses. He had been saving money specifically for her to attend it, in whatever outfit she dreamed of, and so Juli ended up grateful. She chose a simple dress, sturdy shoes, and modest as she could be, learned to do her own hair and face. She would even consider herself under-dressed tonight, looking at how the girls outdid themselves. But all this for what? Basilio simply told her she looked great as he picked her up from home, but no more than that－not even a first dance.

 

The 4 Seasons being played did nothing to invoke a happier mood. Juli had already eaten two servings of the food. And from what her classmates warned her, she better stay away from the drinks. They said that the orange juice didn't taste orange-like at all. But if she was daring enough, then she could try.

 

The emcee announced the last set of songs. Juli craned her neck for a glimpse of Basilio, the student council secretary who acted like the president, but he was nowhere to be found. She tapped her shoes to the beat, the rhythm picked up again to another round of a lively dance. Juli could dance alone or with her classmates, that was true, but that tiny bit of hope clinging within her－of a familiar face to spend this night with before it was too late－just dragged her down to her seat. How could Basilio be so cruel, so insensitive, so unlike him and so－

 

Juli felt a pat on her shoulder. She looked at her side: a palm was outstretched before her. She looked up: Basilio was grinning, half apologetic and half amused. She had the nerve to swat his hand away when he caught hers and, lifting her to her feet, Juli found herself back into their own little world.

 

"Akala mo naman nakalimutan ko?" Basilio shouted against the deafening bass. She merely scrunched up her face into her usual frown that to him meant, without fail, an affirmative. He twirled her around, and facing her again she had that expression he had grown to admire: Juli stifling a laugh, eyes crinkled, and a strand of hair falling to her cheek. "Ikaw kaya ang first and last dance ko."

 

Juli chained her arm with his as they made their way to the dance floor. The lights were dimming, the song changing, and a few other people took their seats.

 

"'Di ka kaya namamansin buong gabi," she told him. "Tinapak-tapakan na nila paa ko eh ikaw lang naman alam kong marunong sumayaw."

 

They took their place at the center of the crowd. Basilio had become taller, now conscious of what his hair looked like and now agonizing over blemishes on his face. But he didn't mind any of that, what with Juli's hands slightly shaking on his shoulders and his hands hesitant to rest on her waist. A part of him wanted to request a different song (he quite forgot how intimate his batchmates could be around them), yet he was also overruled by the strange feeling of not wanting to let go.

 

"Ayos lang ba 'to?" He looked down at Juli, one hand still not touching her waist. She nodded, and that was his cue; as though holding her was the closest thing to home (it was). They swayed, somewhere between gliding and just stepping side to side, settling their pace with the baritone of Frank Sinatra's voice. Juli was averting her eyes, looking anywhere but up to his. Basilio chuckled. "Si Juli kung saan-saan pa kasi tumitingin eh nandito na nga- _aray!_ "

 

He would be lying if he thought he wasn't expecting that response by way of stepping on his foot. Juli did look at him now, only with a glare. Basilio muttered an apology, wincing, but in truth he scarcely felt the throbbing in his shoes than the bliss of having her near. This night was theirs for the taking: away from all their worries, the problems that had to arise so suddenly and mercilessly. Basilio didn't have to think of the future right here, neither did Juli. If only he could stay where he was, barely aware of the song playing, as time ceased its turning. If only they could stay as young.

 

"Tingin ko, uulitin ko na lang," Basilio started. He felt warm underneath his pressed long-sleeved dress shirt. "Ang ganda mo ngayong gabi, Juliana."

 

"Ngayong gabi lang?"

 

"Oo." He winced for his other foot. "Maawa ka naman sa sapatos ko kabibili lang niyan."

 

"Wala yan sa sinapit ng sapatos ko."

 

"Pero seryoso nga ako."

 

Juli scrutinized him for a while, like Basilio was capable of lying (well he did occasionally lie over the smallest of things). She forced a smile, but no less than a genuine one.

 

"Edi salamat."

 

"Yun ang hinihintay ko."

 

They went on talking about the preparations, with Basilio complaining once more how little sleep he got the previous night. He bemoaned of tables coming in late, of a shortage in volunteers, and of a technical difficulty during the opening performance which Juli didn't even notice. He asked about the food: an 'okay' answer from her didn't suit his satisfaction, so he vowed to make things better in their senior prom. The last of the songs ended with a flourish, fading as the two were lost in their conversation and peels of laughter. Bright lights reappeared, and Basilio understood he had to let go. He could hear, however faintly, the vice president of the council calling him to go backstage. Juli stepped aside, motioning him to hurry.

 

Basilio did retrieve his senses and made to return to his work, but not without giving a flustered Juli a peck on the cheek before dashing off.

 

.

 

_He remembered playing as pointguard for the annual liga in Tiani. Juli didn't miss a beat in collecting her girl classmates to cheer for the team. Basilio had so far scored eight points into the game. The buzzer signaled the second time-out._

_From nearby, he could hear them teasing Juli: "Sige na punasan mo na!"_

_"Hayaan niyo na siyang pawisan!"_

_"Gawin mo na'ng santo si Basilio!"_

_"Kayo naman may gusto edi kayo na!"_

_But in spite of her counter-arguments, Juli approached him warily. The girls from their class were squealing (nothing that Juli's glare couldn't handle). She threw a towel at his face._

_"Punasan mo nga sarili mo naliligo ka na sa pawis!"_

_"Pero parang kumikirot 'ata yung kamay ko... hindi ko magalaw..."_

_"Leche ka."_

_"Flying kiss na lang."_

_"Heh."_

_She walked back to the bleachers and sat down, blowing on his direction what he wished for. The crowd on their side went wilder._

 

.

 

1971

 

Basilio surmised it would be wise to leave, but improper to do so in front of his generous hosts. See, he had been invited to dine with the De Dios family, and he was glad to in the hope of escaping the gloomier aura of his own household. What he didn't expect, however, were important matters planned to be talked about before the table. The meal of salted egg and tomatoes, fresh tilapia from the market, and steamy rice was supposed to taste pleasant; but as of the moment it tasted bland in his mouth. He felt like an intruder into this exclusively familial affair, of seeing the truer nature of these people around him: susceptible to even the most serious of topics after what seemed to him an energetic and carefree discussion of the previous fiesta.

 

"Utang na loob pa rin namin kay Kapitan Tiago na makakapagtapos sina Juli at Tano," Mang Tales was saying in general, but his speech was directed at Basilio as the latter stayed mute in his seat. "Pero iba na ang may hawak ng lupa. Hanggang dito na lang. Ngayon, itong si Simoun, mas may kaya at napag-usapan namin na isa ang pwedeng tumuloy sa kolehiyo－pagpalain siya nawa. Meron pa rin tayong patubig－galing sa ilog at sa kanya－at 'di tulad noon may mga bagong kasamahan sa pagsaka. Napag-usapan na rin namin ito ni Juli. Ikaw, Tano, ang tutuloy sa kolehiyo. Mag-aaral ka ng agriculture sa Los Baños."

 

If it were any possible for the party to become even more silent, it was now. Basilio glanced to where Juli was, at the right side of her father and across from him. She was chewing slowly, avoiding her brother's curious and defeated expression. Tatang Selo listened, nodding in agreement to one remark after the other and cleaning his plate with his bare hand. Basilio's fingers, sticky with rice, were just suspended over his meal. He made a move for the soy sauce, waiting for someone－anyone－to break the quiet. Nobody did, not even Tano, though he was still overcome with the need to say something

 

"Maganda yung programa nila sa UP dun. Pagkagraduate mo, Tano, siguradong makakatulong yung napag-aralan mo dito."

 

He saw Tano nod with pursed lips and Mang Tales smile with satisfaction. Juli offered him another serving of rice. Basilio declined, excusing himself that what they needed was a bit of noise. He made his way to the radio by the window and turned it on. The station was set in the evening news.

 

_Katatapos lamang madisperse ng mga tao rito sa Plaza Miranda para magbigay-daan sa isasagawang imbestigasyon. Kabilang sa mga sugatan ay sina Senators Salonga, Illarde, Estrada-Kalaw, LP president Roxas, Sergio Osmeña, Jr., Attorney Isidro..._

 

Basilio was searching for the tuning button when Juli, out of nowhere, turned the radio back off like it was a toxic substance ought to be cast down the sewers. Tatang Selo clucked a sound of disapproval from behind; a chair was dragged from the table; and Tano was already beside them, pleading to turn on the radio again. Juli did switch it on, after giving a pointed look at her brother, but transferred to an FM station playing the latest chart-topping hits of the new decade.

 

"Tapusin na natin kumain, Tano," said Juli firmly, retreating to her seat.

 

They didn't need any more news of the city, of the danger it had been imposing since last year, and Juli was downright perplexed at Tano taking interest of complicated matters too far from their own town. She had initially objected to his going to college, but retracted upon remembering she was the one needed at home; especially now that Tatang Selo's health had taken a worse path. Juli prayed and prayed, night after night, that this change in their life would be tolerable. She had met this Simoun once: he was lordly, wearing tinted sunglasses even at night, his hair ashen, and Juli would never forget how this man sported a sinister smile. Her father reassured her that Simoun's intentions were good and that he was equally willing to help them get back on their feet. She buried her anxieties for the meantime.

 

"Ikaw Basilio," Tatang Selo initiated a whole new conversation, wiggling a shaky finger at them all. "Mag-iingat ka sa Maynila, apo. Hindi maganda ang mga nangyayari ngayon doon. Aba noong kapanahunan ko, wala naman talagang nangyayaring maganda diyan sa siyudad. Palagi na lang binobomba! Mapa-Hapon o komunista! Kung ano ang ikinaganda nito, gano'n din katindi ang ikinakasira. Pero, ito lang masasabi ko, na nagpapasalamat pa rin ako't napadpad dito ang asawa ko. Taga-Maynila siya, pero pinili niya ako."

 

Basilio hummed appreciatively, pouring the old man a glass of water. He made further inquiries: What happened afterwards? Did they elope? Tatang Selo was ecstatic to entertain each and every one of the questions. Where Juli openly reminded her grandfather that he had told this story about a hundred times, Basilio (who had just heard it about fifty times less) would be oddly eager to suffer the same tale all over again. He'd complete Tatang Selo's sentences and feign his awe－but, perhaps, he wasn't pretending to be engrossed in the first place.

 

Torrents of rain poured that night, but they were altogether lost in their whirlwind of happy conversations to pay a hint of care. Luckily for Basilio, the food tasted marvelous again.

 

.

 

_He remembered Juli standing on the bridge, an arm suspended over the railing, his college application forms－all three of them－in her hands. The ceaseless river, once paradise to him, then became a threat from below. What was a mischievous look on Juli's face turned grim and determined, challenging him not to take a step closer, lest she'd throw the papers downwards on their way to Laguna de Bay._

_Basilio took a step. Juli extended her hand._

_"Kukuha na lang ulit ako ng form at uulitin," he said to her. Juli, as though the gust of wind changed her bearings, retrieved her hand. She held the papers close to her chest, waiting for the tears to come. Basilio, no longer cautious, approached her._

_But Juli didn't cry. She asked him with mournful eyes: "Alin ba pipiliin mo?"_

_"Hindi pa naman sigurado kung papasa ako."_

_"Ikaw pa. Sigurado na yan."_

_Basilio wanted to say that it was her that he'd choose: her and this peaceful town, of a promise that everything would remain the same. He'd delay his departure, accumulate the missing documents needed in due time as his primary excuse. He'd do that, but nothing more. Overcome by recent memories of Kapitan Tiago and of older ones where Crispin and his mother dominated the picture, Basilio sighed._

_"Sa UST sana. Pinakamagaling medicine program nila eh. Kung Ateneo, pre-law kasi yun talaga gusto ni kapitan. Kung UPLB, veterinary medicine kasi kailangan ng taga-alaga sa mga manok. Mas makakamura pa 'di ba?"_

_Juli laughed at that－just a quick sound, ending as abruptly as it began._

_"Pero kailangan mong umalis," she said. Clutching the three pieces of paper, she let go of one. The wind carried it away, mimicking the sparrows racing towards Mount Makiling. Basilio stood watching, unable to speak. Juli returned the rest to him._

_"Dalawa na lang pagpipilian mo. Isa yung gusto mo, isa yung gusto nila. Mas kailangan ka doon. Hindi na kita pipigilan."_

 

.

 

1972

 

Juli had not made up her mind whether or not to go downstairs. Basilio was scheduled to leave at six o'clock in the evening, and she had about five minutes to swallow her pride and see him go. But whatever she thought of, it inevitably ended with her hatred towards him－towards her friend, her only best friend. Juli decided that if she wouldn't see him leave then it wouldn't hurt as much. She decided that she'd rather pretend to hate him at present. She decided, but couldn't bring herself to do it.

 

"Ate," Tano rapped on her door. She was immobile on one side of the bed, staring at the wall. "Nandyan na yung tricycle ni Kuya Basilio. Gusto ka raw niya makita."

 

It could be that she was only mad at him for not choosing to stay, despite his reassuring her that he'd call frequently (twice a week) and send monthly letters on his whereabouts. Basilio told her he'd visit over the holidays, that they would always have summer and most importantly Christmas. He promised he'd be safe and be exactly who he was before he left town. Juli didn't bother doubting these vows: she trusted him enough for her to hold them true.

 

So what was keeping her from opening the door? If she didn't hate him, she might be mad at him. But if she wasn't mad at him, then almost certainly she didn't want to be sad over his farewell. Then again, she wasn't foolish to not understand that a farewell left unspoken would be the saddest of the lot.

 

"Ate Juli."

 

Another tap on the wood reminded her of what she would regret. Juli stirred from the bed and stood. She reached the door with a numb hand, her feet heavy. Her unblinking eyes saw Tano nearly begging by the threshold, but her mind－her heart－was already running and that was all it took for the rest of her body to follow suit. Juli trampled down the stairs, into the cramped living room, to the unkempt garden, and out into the road. Breath jagged and racing against the throbbing within her chest, she called out his name. Basilio, in the dim remnants of the September dusk, stopped fixing his baggage atop the vehicle. The engine was running, loud enough to muffle the cry about to blow from Juli's lips.

 

"Uy," was all Basilio said to send Juli crashing towards him. She let the tears fall against the collar of his shirt (he always smelled like soap). Her arms found their home around his neck; and they were almost transported back to that one night when they danced, when they were close enough to stay in each other's presence and not depart from it. So Juli cried what she could cry－never mind what Basilio was whispering, she couldn't hear a thing. Never mind Basilio's tears, she had more to shed than him. Never mind Basilio caging her tight, she was the one who didn't want to let go more.

 

It was her father who broke the familiar scent, the familiar touch. The engine roared to life. Juli had nothing in her power anymore to fight. Through her watery vision she saw Basilio turn around and disappear into the vehicle's car. _Lumingon ka,_ she yelled silently. _Isang lingon lang._ The tricycle geared into motion. Juli pressed her eyes shut: _Hindi masakit kung hindi mo makikita._ She didn't see Basilio look back.

 

The hour passed by as quickly as he had left. Everyone else was huddled in the living room, ears peeled to what the rusty radio had to say. Juli continued to lock herself out, but the volume was loud enough for her to hear from upstairs－no, all the other houses were tuned in on the same station. They reverberated the same grim voice, at times altered by the frequency, yet synchronized like an orchestrated masterpiece. Echoing but never clashing, they spoke of the same thing.

 

_If you offend the New Society, you shall be punished like the rest of the offenders._

 

It seemed as though the world ceased to turn, abandoning all inclinations and solely listening to this one command from an omnipresent ruler. But Basilio alone would keep moving, never stopping, chasing his dreams in a bustling city away from Juli.

 

_This government is the same government that you, the people established in 1946 under the Constitution of the Philippines._

 

Wouldn't he change? People who leave always changed.

 

_There is no doubt in everybody’s mind that a state of rebellion exists in the Philippines._

 

Sometimes she considered it unfair that Basilio was always the smart one, because then he wouldn't be satisfied with a small town.

 

_I have had to use this constitutional power in order that we may not completely lose the civil rights and freedom we cherish._

 

But in all honesty, it was the other way around: the small town didn't deserve him.

 

_I am confident that with God’s help, we will attain our dream of a reformed society..._

 

And Basilio wouldn't chase his dreams for long: he'd surely grasp them, everything, in a nick of time. He'd come back soon enough.

 

_...a new and brighter world._

 

.

 

_He remembered how it was too easy to be swept by the density of the city. Everyone was in a hurry, betting their all just to conquer time. Manila couldn't spare a minute to be friendly with a stranger like him. It was a place that erected itself as proud, looming over its immigrants and dreamers. Everything was intimidating, chaotic, simultaneously begging for attention with its lights, buildings, and cars. The smoke and the stench was bearable only because of its modern metropolitan glamour._

_Basilio could get used to this. He could survive by blending in, equidistant from the bustling center. The elders Kapitan Tiago and Tatang Selo didn't lack a warning: everyday life in this urban hybrid of paradise and hell was a struggle to make a name. Here, everyone had a past they'd rather assume non-existent. Or if they didn't, then they could always compensate at present with a drink or two for the future._

_Basilio dropped his luggage on the marble floor of the old house overlooking the Pasig River. It was an elegant two-storey property of a renowned clan lost in history, inherited by an unico hijo in the name of Tiago. It was a mansion in its own time, until the definition for mansions became dependent simply on their size and not their design. Like the many buildings in the street, the house was a remnant of the art deco craze: windows whispered their once vibrant hues, pillars circled by now faded gilts, double doors boasted the finest mahogany, tiles crafted in an array of geometric patterns, imported furniture enveloped by dust and grime, a staircase fit for a ball, chandeliers still glimmering, Amorsolo paintings reminding the connoisseur of his provincial origins, and a veranda creeping with vines. It was a deserted sanctuary, seldom looked after by the family caretaker._

_As Basilio walked in and inspected the house, for a moment he couldn't distinguish where and when he actually was. He might have traveled too far to be engulfed in this whole new dimension haunted by a decadent tale._

 

.

 

1973

 

Basilio was a regular customer of this one canteen facing the university on Padre Noval street. There was nothing extravagant about the place, but it took pride in its interior that was as warm as the staff and in its inexpensive home-cooked meals. During lunch breaks, of what little time he had to be apart from his hectic schedule as a second year, he would lounge on the table by the corner. The plump lady who owned the canteen would talk to him about almost anything under the weather: from local to national politics and sports-related events of the university. Basilio would always partner his rice meal with a bowl of broth and fill his glass to the brim with ice. Because he ate there nearly everyday, the staff grew generous enough to treat him with discounts.

 

This particular day (a dreary Thursday) was no different, except that the canteen had new faces for patrons and they were sitting beside him: at times speaking in hushed tones, but mostly laughing at an inside joke or two. The television screen above them buzzed with news of the First Lady's diplomatic missions abroad. More customers flooded in, and Basilio was pouring himself another water when he couldn't help overhearing the conversation of the two male students from the College of Arts and Letters.

 

"Inaalay ko ang basong tubig na ito," the one with the wavy hair said, holding up his glass with his left hand. "Kay Ruben Cuevas: the genius, the man himself, our Prometheus unbound. Hindi pa nila nakita eh nasa harap na nila!"

 

The other, with a crooked grin and more faded white uniform, cinked his glass with the first. "Mars shall glow tonight! Artemis is out of sight! Rust in the twilight sky... teka nalimutan ko... basta 'yon! Colors a... bloodshot eye! Or shall I say... dust... Sunders the sleep of just!"

 

"Marcos," the first whispered, lowering his head. The other followed his stance.

 

"Hitler."

 

"Diktador."

 

"Puppy."

 

Both broke into raucous laughs, earning them annoyed glances from surrounding customers but a humored smile from the cashier behind the counter. Basilio suppressed a chuckle, knowing perfectly well the topic of their conversation. It caused quite a stir in the circles of his politically-active classmates. Speculations on the real name of the poem's author were still being discussed, livelier than ever as the days passed, but everyone reached a unanimous agreement that the unknown author studied in Ateneo.

 

Basilio proceeded to finish his lunch when he felt a light tap on his shoulder. It was the AB student with wavy hair. He noticed an inconspicuous dimple on the left cheek of the student, who also appeared to have a permanent hunch on the back. It seemed to Basilio that the stranger always laughed or told the funniest of jokes.

 

"Anong college ka?" the student asked. His companion looked on.

 

"Nursing," answered Basilio, almost out of instinct.

 

"Baka gusto mong basahin 'to."

 

The stranger gave him a pamphlet half the size of a bond paper from under the table. Taking it, Basilio observed that it was no ordinary pamphlet recruiting potential applicants for a college organization. In bold letters it shouted its cause; in paragraphs of all-capitalized words it spoke of satires and propaganda. Basilio quickly read it over, about this league of artists and humble students lobbying the same cause of a freed democracy. Finished, he found the two lads eyeing him expectantly.

 

"Nabasa ko na," he told them, returning the pamphlet under the table.

 

"Ah hindi, sa'yo na yan!"

 

"Kailangan kong tumanggi."

 

"Ah." The wavy-haired student, albeit reluctantly, still beamed at him as he took the pamphlet. He insisted on shaking Basilio's hand. "Juanito nga pala. Juanito Pelaez. AB Philo. Ito si Tadeo, Philo rin. Wala siyang apelyido."

 

The other with the faded uniform greeted Basilio with a wave. "Meron naman akong apelyido, 'di ko lang sinasabi. Ang nakakaalam lang, ako pati mga professor ko."

 

"Mga professor na hindi naman niya sinisipot," Juanito added. "Isa kasing misteryo itong si Tadeo. Ano palang pangalan mo?"

 

"Basilio. Sa ngayon, 'di ko muna sasabihin apelyido ko."

 

"Edi kung ganun ako lang pala ang walang tinatago dito."

 

Basilio joined in on the laughter, as though he knew them for a longer time. The unexpected company of acquaintances went on conversing about the 'organization', to which Basilio had to decline on the excuse that he promised his family he wouldn't get involved on such matters while in Manila. He learned from Juanito that the group wasn't only based in the University of Santo Tomas－it had connections from the top four universities, especially the ones situated in Katipunan avenue. They were a band of artists, musicians, writers, and orators dedicated to free speech and restoring the country to its state before the ascendancy of the president. Tadeo invited him to come see their meeting that weekend ("Kahit tignan mo lang kung paano kami magtrabaho.") Basilio asked how they kept themselves hidden. Juanito proudly answered that one of their members was unico hijo of an influential family ("Parang ikaw," Tadeo countered) and that they had the support of the Jesuits ("Hindi nga lang masyado sa mga Dominikano," Juanito sighed.)

 

In the end, Basilio conceded. It wouldn't be that harmful to try, would it? He could back out anytime he wanted, and Juanito and Tadeo didn't seem to mind his decision that much. With his courteous salutations, Basilio left the group at around a quarter to one. He told them that he had more readings to pore over, when in reality he had to run to his college building's payphone booth and make a long distance call to Juli. He'd have to apologize why he missed her call the other night, when he dozed off in the middle of a chapter, at home in Kapitan Tiago's old residence in Escolta.

 

The last time they talked, Juli expressed her complaints about the new parish priest of Tiani ("Nakakaantok magsermon si Father Camorra!") and of their new landholder's odd behavior ("Masama talaga ang kutob ko sa Simoun na yan.") She further relayed Tano's latest hobby of cutting out news articles (she had caught him reading an underground newspaper from God knows where) and placing them on a blank notebook. Apparently, Mang Tales threatened to burn all of Tano's collection if he was caught again ("Lalo lang niyang itutuloy yun.") When Basilio asked her of Kapitan Tiago's condition, he could see Juli shrug from the other end of the line, a hundred kilometers away ("Isang beses sa isang buwan na lang siya nagsasabong.") Basilio was relieved that he didn't have to worry too much, save for worrying over Juli's own causes of distress.

 

There was no other student at the telephone booth as he reached his building. He hurriedly pressed the buttons to Manang Bali's store. At the third ring, the familiar high-pitched voice of their local tindera greeted him.

 

"Si Basilio ba 'to?"

 

"Opo. Si Juli po?"

 

A shuffling sound from the other line and he heard the sweeter, more mellow and calming voice of Juli: "Nakaalala ka yata ngayon?"

 

"Palagi naman, Juliana."

 

.

 

_He remembered how he met the spirited Isagani. All of them were, but the Atenean poet who exalted Pete Lacaba stood taller－not because of natural physique, but because Isagani carried himself well with a confident air. The group was comprised of many orators, prolific writers, editors and artists who thrived under the unknowing eye of the regime. They had the protection of Makaraig's clan, double agents like Sandoval's, and people like Juanito who was in it for the storm and drive._

_Pecson was the shrewdest of the lot (the second was Placido). When Basilio saw them at the meeting in Intramuros (Tadeo promised Makaraig that Basilio was no loyalist), Pecson was one to call silence should their actions be inclined to the reckless. They'd change their passwords to the headquarters twice a week; alter the locations of the printing press; rearrange the writers' pseudonyms; train themselves to call the members by their codenames; and heed Pecon's incessant reminders of vigilance._

_Basilio couldn't think of no other contribution but to offer the aged house for possible meetings. Makaraig had many, indeed, but nobody would suspect Kapitan Tiago's gradually decaying home. It was big enough to accommodate them._

_Isagani asked him of his impression of Manila one lethargic evening._

_"Tama ang hinala ko nung bata ako. Magulo dito."_

_"Magulo at maraming nagbabalat-kayo." Isagani nodded, smiling to himself. "Mga nag-iilusyon na lahat ng mga pangarap nila matutupad. Nakakalula ang Maynila. Palagi silang may dinadagdag, inaaksaya, pinapaganda. Habang napakarami ang naghihirap at namamatay para silang mga hambog ang mabuhay."_

_"Tingin mo ba hindi talaga kayo mahuhuli balang araw?"_

_The last page of the newspaper came out of the printer. Basilio compiled the stack in the shelf._

_"Anong 'kayo'? Tayo." Isagani inspected the contents and leafed through the pages, humming his approval. "Mahuli man o hindi, tuloy lang ang laban. Dapat natin 'tong wakasan. Sumosobra na sila."_

 

.

 

1974

 

Juli discovered a new hobby in tending what she had formerly neglected: the small garden in front of the house. Since Basilio's departure she began planting flowers of various colors: red to symbolize her passion, yellow her joy, blue her sadness, and the green of the grass for hope. She religiously watered them every other day, watching out for weeds and withered leaves to pull, trimming here and there as she devoted her hours between this newfound ritual and caring for her grandfather.

 

Apart from this she read what books she could find in her possession. It had been months since Basilio's last visit, and he brought with him a stack of novels for Juli's perusal. At night when she grew tired of reading, she'd hear a mixture of kundiman and modern songs being played outside her window. Haranistas became a regular occurrence: some of them singing well, but most lacked decorum. Juli could recall one night when they had George Harrison's lyrics wronged with their crooked English. She'd keep her window shut, turn off the light, and hear their pamamaalam. Since Basilio left, the young men in Tiani saw their opportunity for courtship.

 

It was one of those nights again of her sitting by and listening to the serenade. They all promised the same formulaic things of fidelity and perseverance, with the exception of one drunk chap who was even more honest than the others. As the band finished with their brokenhearted farewell, Juli turned around to find Tano on the side of the bed.

 

"Gising ka pa?" She slid the window open, relieved to feel the fresh air.

 

"Ate, may kailangan akong sabihin."

 

Tano had always been blunt and expressive, never withholding what his emotions dictated him to do. There were times when Juli saw him struggle to keep them in, whenever their father would sermon him (more so now that Tano had entered the university). She wouldn't say she didn't like her brother's interests nowadays; she just didn't approve of them, worrying about his safety. On the contrary, she was proud of him for having principles morally grounded at a very early age. Juli didn't have that, only what the novels and songs of old preached to her. Where Tano realized he had a bigger fight to pursue, Juli remained where she was: content and ever obedient.

 

She waited for him to continue. Tano's shoulders eased.

 

"Tingin mo ba, ate, na naghihirap tayong mga magsasaka?"

 

"Parte naman ng buhay natin ang maghirap, 'di ba?"

 

"Pero-" Tano's hands shook. Juli offered her pillow for him to hold on to. "Totoong may mga programang dapat na tutulong sa'tin. Bagong teknolohiya, bagong mga ideya, pero akala lang natin nakakatulong sila. Tutulungan nga nila tayong mas maraming maani, pero para kanino ba talaga yung mga yun? Para sa kanila, sa mga nasa ibang bansa. Kokonti lang matitira sa'tin. Lalong kokonti. Kunwari positibo ang lahat ng 'to, na mas maeenganyo tayo magtrabaho, pero sila lang din ang makikinabang. Hindi patas yun. Wala ring nagbago."

 

Juli marveled at his words, at his mind. She understood all that Tano meant, but did he really need to act on them at once? It was true that what had been happening lately would drive young students alike to come together and get intoxicated by the fervor of a revolt. But was this danger really necessary? Was there not an alternative? Observing her brother, Juli didn't see any. He could no longer be dissuaded.

 

"Ito ba yung mga tinuturo nila sa'yo?" was all she could reply. Tano handed her a paper folded into fours. "Ano 'to?"

 

"Hindi ko sasabihin kung kailan ako mawawala. Pero kung dumating ang araw na yun, pakibigay kay papa. Wala na kong nakikitang katuturan na mag-aral para sa naghahari-hariang pinakikinabangan lang tayo at ng marami pang iba."

 

"Sasama ka sa kanila?" Juli pushed the letter back to him, refusing whatever it wanted to say－whatever Tano wanted to do. "Kailangan ba talaga? Tano, maawa ka kay papa. Maawa ka kay tatang. Sa akin. Konting tiis lang, matatapos din 'to. Ang bata-bata mo pa. Hindi mo pa dapat iniisip ang mga ganyan. Aalis ka rin?"

 

"Ate, makinig ka." He pressed the letter to her palm, squeezing her fingers closed. Juli was now weeping quietly. "Walang mangyayari kung walang kikilos. Hindi pa naman 'to huli nating pagkikita. Mag-iingat ako. Palagi ko kayong tatandaan."

 

The week passed without Tano causing an argument and bringing up what had transpired that night. The family went on with their monotonous routine, closing the lights at exactly twelve o'clock when cars of the constabulary would patrol the roads. Tano didn't come home one afternoon, and Juli immediately knew why.

 

.

 

_He remembered being swallowed by guilt when he heard Juli crying on the phone. He couldn't touch her, comfort her, and the words exchanged would never suffice to ease her pain. This guilt, coupled with the fact that he couldn't tell her what he had been up to lately, only weakened Basilio all the more. He thought of quitting the group, for the situation was already boiling until it would burst. He couldn't risk adding another burden to Juli's load, let alone Kapitan Tiago's._

_"Ganito na lang, Juliana," he said after Juli's weeping reduced to hiccups. What consolation he had left to give, Basilio would let her have it. "Hindi ko masasabi na ligtas si Tano. Pero matapang siya, alam mo 'yan. Ikaw mas nakakakilala sa kanya. Kung gusto mo, bumisita ka rito? Kalagitnaan na kasi ng sem, hindi ako makaluwas."_

_"Bumisita diyan?"_

_"Oo?"_

_Juli sniffed. He could see her pursing her lips, a hand on her waist, deep in thought._

_"O siya, sige." And just like that, she was bright again. "Ikaw bahala sa'kin ha."_

 

.

 

1975

 

Basilio didn't know what to expect in meeting Juli at the bus terminal. She wore the usual bright colors compatible to her complexion paired with her trusty sandals, as she promptly waited on the benches. She looked the same, more petite since the holidays, even; but he had mistaken her for a stranger at first glance because she cut her hair chin-length. He stuttered in his greeting, distractedly carrying her bag for her, to which she simply sniggered and warned him not to stare too much or else she'd melt in a puddle. Juli looked different (the good kind of different), and he liked it very much.

 

"Anong una nating pupuntahan?" she asked him, turning her head in every direction. The crowd from the parked buses littered out into the streets, buildings on both sides cast shadows against the noonday sun, and vehicles swooped into the avenue. Basilio hailed the sky-blue bus at the stop. "Hindi ka ba nahihilo sa dami ng tao?"

 

"Sasakay tayo dito." He motioned for her to enter the bus. The interior was air-conditioned－Juli had to admit she was impressed. Basilio offered the vacant seat at the front and sat beside her from the aisle. Juli stopped listening, just gazing out into the window. It awed her how wide the streets were and how colorful were the jeepneys that flied past the billboards advertising various refreshments to quench one's thirst. Basilio, undeterred, chatted on. "May papakilala muna ako sa'yo sa Quiapo. Kumain ka na ba? Juli? Bakit ka nga pala nagpagupit, ha? May alam akong kainan: masarap pansit nila dun pati mura lang. O baka gusto mo ng ibang pagkain?"

 

She returned her attention back to him, giving his nose a pinch. "Basta kung sa'n mo ko dadalhin dun ako. Talaga bang ganito yung bus? Hindi punuan? Nakakapanibago ah. Iba ka na rin, Basilio! Manileño na!"

 

He explained that it was the only bus not allowed to fill itself with passengers to the brim. It followed a strict route, halting only at appointed stops. And because it was a project of the Manila governor known for her opulent inclinations to beauty and love, it was simply fitting to name it the Love Bus. Juli scoffed at that: "Sinasadya mo bang isakay ako dito?" They reached Quezon Boulevard at the next turn, now entering the busy district of Quiapo. Basilio dropped a few coins into the metal box and pulled Juli to the sidewalk. Neon signs beckoned potential customers to try their best-selling mami, while Chinese stalls promised cheaper prices but tastier meals. From across the boulevard stood the church in all its glory as calesas rattled by.

 

"Saan-" Juli glanced around to already find herself in a panciteria disguised as a diner. Basilio closed the door behind her and led the way to a booth parallel to the Elvis Presley portrait. Juli saw a man and a woman seated on one side, smiling at them. The man seemed to be Basilio's age; he had a sharper nose and a face that made one instantly trust him. The woman had fair skin, shoulder-length brunette hair, and light make-up accentuating her pink lips. Juli found her pretty like those in the magazines.

 

Basilio introduced the two as Isagani and Paulita. Isagani was from Ateneo; Paulita from a neighboring all-girls college; and Basilio had met the former in an organization meeting ("Papaliwanag ko mamaya," he whispered.) They were warm and easy to talk to, shaking hands with her and asking how her trip faired. As they waited for their meals ordered in advance, Isagani stirred the conversation into mentioning how much Basilio spoke of Juli; that he already knew the basics about her and how Basilio had agonized over her absence. Isagani spoke freely, like he was sure of anything he said, and Juli couldn't help admiring that Basilio found himself a nice bunch of people to be friends with.

 

"Makata 'yang si Gani," Basilio said. Isagani gave a modest shrug. "Yun nga lang, hindi siya naniniwala na maganda mga sinusulat niya."

 

"Hindi kayang magsinungaling ni Basilio, kaya mas paniniwalaan ko siya."

 

"Tignan mo! Si Juli na nagsabi," Paulita agreed. They ate their meal (a large bowl of saucy pancit, half slices of bread, and four bottles of coke) over more random topics ranging from the newest film in the theater to brushing the tip of some national concerns. Paulita asked Juli what types of music she listened to. In the end they concluded they were soul-sisters. "Kailangan nating magshopping sa Isetann, Juli. Ikaw lang babae dito na makakaintindi sa'kin."

 

They left the place with high spirits, just spending a few sentimos and pesos. Paulita was able to persuade Juli to go shopping with her ("'Wag kang mag-alala. Ako bahala sa'yo,") so the party decided on the duration of the excursion. Paulita vowed she wouldn't go overboard this time around with a companion, but Isagani－ever the teaser－didn't believe any of it. Basilio's only compromise was that after two hours, Juli must be returned to him. He had plans to catch Lino Brocka's film in the Globe Theater.

 

All set and agreed upon, Juli next found herself in a mall overflowing with life and want. What clothes she had at home and at the displays of their local tiangge were nothing compared to the rows and rows of branded dresses, pants, skirts, and shirts hung below signboards that announced of a fifty to seventy percent sale.

 

"Inaayos mo ba kilay mo?" Paulita happened to ask, as she decided what print better flattered her companion. Juli peeked into a mirror and furrowed her brows. She shook her head: "Hindi ko naman sila ginalaw kahit kailan."

 

"Talaga? Ang ganda kaya! Alam mo, natural asset mo 'yan." Paulita dumped yet another dress into the cart and inspected the next row. "Pati ang lips mo. We need to focus on that. Nako, pagkakita sa'yo niyan ni Basilio mas 'di ka niya makikilala. Lalo pa 'yang mahuhumaling sa'yo."

 

"Nahuhumaling? Ni isang pag-amin wala pa kaming sinasabi sa isa't-isa."

 

"Juli. Seryoso ka ba?" Paulita fitted her a headband then threw it in the cart. "Hindi mo ba nakikita kung pa'no ka tinitignan ni Basilio? Mahal mo ba siya?"

 

"Oo naman!" It shocked Juli how instinctively she responded. She felt the color on her face flare up. Paulita gave a knowing smile. "Pero... wala pa kong sinasabi, wala rin siyang sinasabi. Kailangan bang sabihin? Hindi ba sapat na pinapakita na lang?"

 

Paulita lightly pushed her into a dressing room with the first batch of clothes and accessories. "I-fit mo muna ang mga 'to. Tumingin ka sa salamin. Tandaan mo, Juli, na bago ang lahat dapat confident ka muna sa sarili mo. Sa mga nangyayari ngayon, wala sa'tin ang sigurado kung babatiin pa natin ang bukas o ang susunod na bukas. Masyado bang malalim? Si Gani kasi nagsabi niyan."

 

Juli followed her instructions, taking in every utterance and pause Paulita had said. The clothes fit her perfectly, hugging her body in the right measurements; what with the material they were made of settling comfortably around her skin. Every single day she'd see herself in the mirror looking back, and ask if ten years from now the experiences would be worth it. Her face would just silently answer without a tinge of certainty. But there, behind closed curtains and nobody else to intervene, Juli saw how much she changed and would continue to change. Her father's mantra was that she took after her mother: beautiful, glowing, simple. She was beginning to believe it－even the times Basilio complimented her.

 

When Juli stepped out, Paulita declared that she wouldn't need to fit the other clothes because she already looked splendid. They'd have to spend the remaining time splurging on make-up located on the floor above. Juli was willing, but nothing too fancy.

 

"Syempre hindi naman yung makapal!" Paulita dismissed the thought with a wave, checking the tubes of lipstick and boxes of liner pencils. "Yung tita ko kasi ganun. Kapag sinabi ko namang 'di niya bagay, magagalit. Pero sinasabi rin niyang 'wag ako magsinungaling! Ay ewan ko ba! Ito－ay ang mahal－ipapagamit ko na lang sa'yo make-up ko. Para ngayong gabi lang naman, 'di ba?"

 

Juli had no idea how to respond to Paulita's smirk. "Tingin ko?"

 

"Ang tingin _ko_ naman, sinasabi na ni Gani kung ano dapat gawin ni Basilio ngayon na ngayon din. Ah basta, Juli! Malalaman mo rin mamaya!"

 

Juli was in no situation to question her any further: not because she had no hint of what Paulita meant, but because she knew _exactly_  what was meant and she was terrified at the possibility. Paulita almost monopolized the comfort room to fix Juli up. The latter was reminded of high school memories of the similar kind.

 

"Pulang-pula yata?" Juli studied her reflection. Her lips sported a shade of burgundy red.

 

"Hindi noh! Sakto lang 'yan. Meron, pero hindi nakakadistract."

 

The two hours dedicated to the mall excursion had run out. When they met with Basilio and Isagani at the entrance, Basilio stuttered again. Juli had to contain a laugh (he did look somewhat foolish). Isagani apologized on Paulita's behalf ("Pasensya na dinamay ka pa niya,") but retracted it with a noteworthy compliment progressing along the lines of Basilio not being able to sleep that night. No sooner had the party broken up (with a guarantee that they'd see each other again) than Basilio inviting her to the theater across the avenue. _Maynila sa Kuko ng Liwanag_ had a screening at four in the afternoon, and he wouldn't miss it for the world.

 

"Ganito kalaki ang sinehan?" Juli mused once they entered, a bag of popcorn in her hand. "Pero konti lang ang nanonood? Ang dilim..."

 

The blank white screen before them magically transformed into another realm full of color and motion. Juli commented that this large television screen was far superior to Kapitan Tiago's black-and-white television set. Basilio hushed her, as the opening credits faded in, and Juli replied she wouldn't give him any popcorn. For a while she found it hard to eat with the lipstick on: did girls here have to go through this challenge everyday? She wiped her lips clean with a handkerchief.

 

"Hala ba't mo tinanggal?"

 

"Bwiset hindi ako makakain nang maayos," she argued, munching in a whole mouthful. "Subukan mo kaya."

 

Basilio complied, getting his load from the bag despite Juli's protests. The film advanced in what Basilio called the insurmountable craft of the actors, the director, and the artistic underlying of its cinematography. Juli could tell he was only talking too much so it wouldn't be obvious he was being moved to tears. She joined in on the applause of the audience as the end credits rolled in. The story made an impression on her, as though it preached of a reality that she didn't know existed.

 

"Tara sa Roxas Boulevard," Basilio suggested.

 

The day already turned into night once they stepped out the theater. He neither gave Juli the time to respond nor gather her bearings, for the jeepney they hailed tottered out of Quezon Boulevard: past the blinding but tempting lights, the nightcrawlers taking advantage of their chance before curfew, and the side-streets of boutiques and restaurants. The cars pooled into the thoroughfare overlooking the sea. It had more lights, people, and palm trees: the yachts lazily floating as though perpetually stuck in a parking space. From afar, a ship with tiny twinkling yellow bulbs glided by. Jukebox music resonated from the stalls lined up on the baywalk, attracting patrons and newcomers alike. Juli noted the more expensive cars and taller buildings in this area, even a particular bus that had a deck packed with passengers enjoying the evening wind. From her right Basilio pointed at the CCP Complex, with its fountains shooting into the sky. They alighted the jeep at the stop and took a stroll by the bay.

 

Juli locked her hand in his. "Naiintindihan ko na kung bakit madaling mawala dito."

 

"Mawala?" Her hand was warm, soft, not dry or sweaty. Juli frowned at the sea, like it insulted her. "Yun nga lang, mabaho. Pero wala namang pakialam ang mga tao kung ganito naman kaganda ang pinupuntahan nila. Ang gandang ilusyon, 'di ba?"

 

"Gugustuhin mo ngang makalimot dito." She swayed their arms, back and forth, in tune with their steps. She thought of the much different scenery she witnessed on the way to Manila: of dilapidated shacks squeezed in a limited space, of families in the railways pumping water and selling what little goods they could. Juli didn't want to ask any more of this, so she prompted Basilio how his studies were going. He didn't want to talk about it, either. But sure, he was coping well, if she dared to know.

 

They didn't stay long enough in the boulevard, just picked a few snacks along the way before riding a jeep to Santa Cruz. By seven they crossed Jones bridge and were greeted by another sight directly taken from the movies in the guise of Escolta street. Basilio made a turn to the left, pointing at the architectural masterpieces he called the blending of the old and the new. Juli's feet were sore; but she barely felt it, gazing at the columns that persisted through the decades.

 

Basilio stopped at a highly gated residence. Like the others, this smaller－but nonetheless wider－edifice may be aged and worn, yet in all manners still beautiful. Juli wondered aloud if he ever felt alone and lonely inside it.

 

"Sa ngayon, malayo naman sa malungkot," he responded with a sad smile, pushing the doors open. He guided her through the hall, making a quick tour of the rooms and where Juli was supposed to sleep; the bathrooms, the kitchen, the veranda, and the sala and dining room that needed a bit more cleaning. "Matanda na kasi yung dapat na nagbabantay dito."

 

Juli would be staying for two days, which posed enough time for her to volunteer in the cleaning. She took none of Basilio's modesty: "Tatanda ka lalo rito kung hindi ko pa 'to lilinisin. Sayang naman ang ganda ng bahay kund hindi malinis."

 

He showed her the kapitan's old study. An array of leather-bound books cluttered the space, from the tables and chairs to the shelves. Juli read the words on the spines (they were mostly about law), and scrutinized the frames of faded paintings and sepia photographs. Basilio called her attention to a specific frame: it was a portrait of a younger Kapitan Tiago in a studio, dressed as a dapper. It humored him to see the man in his carefree days of youth－a far cry from the derby-obsessed and opium-induced geezer they now knew.

 

Basilio, reasoning that he had a textbook to finish in his room, left Juli free to roam the house. An ornate round mirror hung at the end of the corridor adjacent to Juli's temporary quarters: gray because of cobwebs and accumulated dust layers. Her reflection appeared like smoke.

 

It wasn't difficult for Juli to familiarize herself with the room, with the vast household itself. In no time, after unpacking, she prepared herself to sleep－tired but grateful for a day where she didn't have to spare a glance on what she had left back in Tiani. She didn't have to think of Tano (his letter said that he was now situated in the farther south); and her father assured her that whatever problems they had in the farm would be resolved soon (but that wretched Simoun's intentions became clearer－he was no different to the landlords she heard of; only her father would choose to remain blind).

 

To be blind, to be lost in this euphoric jungle set in a time stopping for no one－Juli wanted to feel it on her own. _Madaling mawala dito. Madaling madala._

 

She clung to the shawl around her and walked through the dim corridor. Basilio's door was open, but she knocked anyway. He was as stunned as she was, disheveled hair and the tough aroma of coffee lingering on his shirt. Juli often imagined what it would be like to bridge what little proximity she and Basilio had. They weren't short of the physicality warranted by their relationship, but they had been missing out on one thing and that one thing only. Basilio could be so self-restraining sometimes.

 

She would skip uttering the words, but there they were－loud and clear in one breath.

 

"Mahal kita."

 

His response wasn't as uttered, for they were altogether lost in his mouth diving into hers. Hands exploring, breathing jagged, and the flesh detesting any space in between－Basilio was kissing her, and she him. It started slowly, unsure, like an alienated object they had to study first. What she couldn't say, she let the air flowing between them deliver. What he wanted to say, he relayed in tight touches and gasps.

 

Juli's hands went deeper, and Basilio let go. "Juliana. Sigurado ka?"

 

She impatiently nodded. He rested his forehead on hers, trailing his thumb on her bottom lip and contemplating how to go about it. He realized then that Juli's eyes weren't black－they were the darkest of brown. Basilio had an elementary knowledge on the whole affair stirred by the tumult of passions, but to execute it would be another matter entirely. Juli smothered a giggle.

 

"Ba't ka natatawa?"

 

"May binigay kasi si Paulita."

 

"Na ano?"

 

She slipped a small square wrapping in his hand. Basilio laughed, setting it aside and joking if she checked the expiration date. He would mention that Isagani gave him something too, but decided that they only needed that one for the night. He kissed her again, more fervently, pressing their bodies together in a heated flush in fear of separation. He had this, what he waited to feel for so long. He had her, and he completely forgot he still had a chapter to finish－but that could wait until tomorrow.

 

.

 

_He remembered waking up to Juli sleeping soundly beside him, and her nearly suffocating him with a pillow when he tried to rouse her. The weaved blanket shielded her from the dawn's rays, though less powerful than his arms wrapped around her frame. She still slept for another ten minutes, and he contented himself in watching her chest rise and fall with every breath._

_Basilio glided his fingers along her cheek, finding their place on the curve of her waist. Juli opened her eyes, squinting and mouth murmuring incoherently how it was too early on a Sunday morning. He kissed her nose._

_"May bibigay ako sa'yo."_

_"Mhm."_

_He slid the drawer of the bedside table open and pulled out a silver chain, through which a locket－mother of pearl enclosed in a miniscule cage－was fixed intricately. Juli was observing how it glimmered against the light; but no, not wholly, for she was observing him. Basilio was telling her how he acquired it: that it was the kapitan's, his daughter's specifically, and that he was granted with the blessing to give it to her. The necklace was stunning, not the least beautiful; but to Juli it wasn't as enchanting as her and Basilio under the same sheets, basking in the morning sun._

_She told him this, and he had nothing more to add－_

_"Mahal na mahal kita."_

_－except for one._

 

.

 

1976

 

Juli was convinced her heart would never be whole again. She couldn't distinguish Tano anymore as he sat there in front of her, his choosing this particular booth of the carinderia in the town proper for their meeting. So much had changed about him: his skin was darker, shoulders broader, eyes more brooding, and when he took off his hat his hair was completely shaved. It didn't escape Juli that there were new scars on his arms and neck－they surely didn't come from his working in the fields before. He insisted on a public place, strictly setting the duration of the meeting: nothing more, nothing less. She had not seen him for three months, and now she would in only a span of thirty minutes.

 

"Ate, sunugin mo yung mga sulat ko. Lahat-lahat: mga libro, flyers, dyaryo. Kapag tinanong ka nila sabihin mong matagal na kong wala sa bahay－dalawang taon na. Huwag mong hayaan na hanapin ako nila papa." He didn't grant her the opportunity to ask about his scars or where and who he had been with, but Juli also understood that she'd rather not know. Tano kept scanning the what seemed to be normal area of lunchgoers having a grand time.

 

Juli held both his hands tighter. She was strong－she had to be. "Naiintindihan ko."

 

He smiled for the first time since seeing her, and she too was relieved. They grabbed the chance to talk about mundane topics: How was their grandfather? Tatang adopted a diet of less salty food. Papa shouldn't overwork himself; he had a history of hypertension. Basilio was fine, at least that's what he told Juli in their last phone call. And Juli－she missed going to school.

 

They separated once the customers started piling out. Juli went straight home, collecting whatever contraband she could find in Tano's room and bringing them to the lighted pyre in the backyard. She included the letters addressed to her, thinking if she should also burn Basilio's. He had, in fact, been writing to her about their organization. She dropped them one by one, starting from the earliest correspondence. As for the latest, she'd rather cling to it first－imprint it more in her memory.

 

Basilio wrote that the group had dispersed, that someone from their circle relayed information to the authorities and nobody was no longer safe. Some of their members fled: the wealthy ones to other countries, while the rest relied on their own. He said he didn't understand why they would do that: _Hindi ba minsan magkakaibigan din kami na parehas lang ang hangarin? Kahit anong estado pa sila ng pamumuhay?_  He continued studying as though nothing happened, coming home on time and never missing a night when he didn't think of her. He had begun his internship at the general hospital, but it was a much sorrier state: he wasn't as strong as Juli was, and it troubled him that he couldn't save the missing ones－the _desaparecidos_ , as they were called. His only prayer to God for now was to be safe, and for Juli not to worry.

 

The post-script of the letter spoke of Isagani on the run: _Patuloy pa rin siyang nagsusulat. Nung huli kaming nagkita ang sabi niya magtatago muna siya sa bahay ng tiyo niya._  He had no news of Paulita, but Isagani did tell him that the couple had to break it off. Juli couldn't believe what she had read. Part of her wanted to pretend she didn't have to think of the unimaginable: of Basilio ceasing his letters and calls.

 

_Kung kailangan mo 'tong sunugin, gawin mo ang dapat._ She went over the end line of the letter for the upteenth time. _Mananatili naman ang mga salita ko sa puso't diwa mo._  She let it burn, the embers slowly eating the ink of his words.

 

_Palagi akong nangungulila sa'yo._

 

.

 

_He remembered shivering, naked, on the cement floor. The air-conditioning unit, on full blast, spluttered out the coldest breath landing on his skin now drenched in sweat and ice water. The chill about him was scorching, piercing through him amid the chatter of his teeth in this windowless room. The ceiling fan turned and turned, mocking him as he yearned for a tinge of warmth._

_Basilio refused to tell them what he knew: Hindi ko alam, hindi ko alam, wala akong alam. He twisted the truths: Ilan kayo sa samahan? Sampung libo. Nasa'n na yung iba? Lumipad na pa-Amerika. Sinong lider ninyo? Si Marcos lang ang lider dito. Sino 'tong nagsusulat na Masaganang Ani, ha? Baka magsasaka－galit din naman sila sa inyo. Putangina sumagot ka! Hindi puta ang ina ko._

_They beat him, he didn't feel a thing. They struck him blow by blow, the paddle slapping against his thighs, he was numb－the former color of his skin would eventually return from its blending with the black and blue, anyhow. He'd scream until the veins on his throat emerged; and they'd jeer at him, demanding more futile information－but his sole response was to spit out blood. He could still hear the click of the gun being loaded, pointed right between his eyes, and his praying to a god that the chamber was empty._

_The incandescent bulb above was a hazy swirl, mimicking his mind. Shrill voices from the corridor behind the door turned fainter, fog-like. Black dots appeared from the sides of his vision, multiplying to the center 'til it was pitch dark._

_Juliana didn't have to know what happened to him._

 

.

 

1977

 

Basilio was home. He made a hurried visit to Kapitan Tiago's, checking up on the old man (who was only turning for the worse) and dropping his things. He gave a few reminders to the servants (who fortunately remained loyal to their master) about the new prescribed medications the kapitan ought to take. He was received gleefully, not one of them knowledgeable on what he had endured. The past year he dedicated to recovery, after he was discharged from the camp (because, after all, the information he gave were useless and he was deemed psychologically ill－the irony of it). He hid his scars under long-sleeved shirts, his trauma beneath a smile that never wore off; but just as Juli said, his eyes spoke of a different story. He may had been freed, but he never genuinely felt it. In Isagani's letter to him (after a year of eerie silence and doubt), the fight would have to go on until the malevolent tyrant was overthrown.

 

Basilio continued his studies, fueled by a fire rekindled by the image of Juli: her voice, her handwriting, and the promise of seeing her once again. The last he heard of her was two weeks ago, in a perfumed letter beckoning him to follow the scent. And here he was: alive, though shattered, and walking towards her home like a light that never goes out at the end of a tunnel.

 

_Parang may nagbago sa boses at sa mga sulat mo, pero baka guni-guni ko lang 'yon. Matagal na kasi tayong hindi nagkikita (mas madalas ko pa ngang nakikita si Tano, kahit maraming buwan ang pumapagitan). Alam kong abala ka, kaya maswerte ka't pinapatawad kita sa 'di mo pagsulat o pagtawag. O baka naman may nakilala ka na'ng bagong babae na paglilibangan?_

 

The road to Juli's was unpaved and unlit. Basilio relied on the full moon in watching his steps, as the stray dogs of the town relied on their sense of smell. In his chest pocket was the letter, but he recollected her words exactly as they were written. He'd kiss her again and again, never letting her go. They'd spend Christmas together, and he didn't have to be lonely anymore.

 

_Hindi ako selosa, ha. Naninigurado lang. Huwag mong kakalimutan na yung pangako ko noon na akala mo kalokohan lang, tutuparin ko pa. Pakakasalan pa kitang bwisit ka. Pagsisilbihan tulad ng pagsisilbi mo sa bayan, pero hindi bilang isang alila._

 

He would graduate the following semester and pursue medicine proper for another four years. When he interned at the emergency room of the general hospital, it was an ordeal to watch families come and go, inquiring of the missing body of their children. Such a scene pained Basilio as he double-checked records, shuffling through a pile in a metal drawer, only to tell them that the hospital didn't have a patient or a dead body under that name. Try as he might to paint an indifferent face, he would look away.

 

_Marami kang maliligtas, mahal. Maghintay ka lang at matatapos din ang lahat ng ito. Maraming sakit ang mapapagaling mo. Maraming tao ang muli mong mabibigyan ng pag-asa. Manalig lang tayo at magtiis. Sabi sa akin ni papa na 'di mo aakalaing nandyan na pala ang panahon ng pag-aani. Sakaling dumaan man ang bagyo, bumangon ka at magtanim ng panibago. Hindi matatakasan ang tadhana natin. Higit pa sa bagyo, unos, o tagtuyot ang pipigil sa'yo._

 

Basilio rounded a corner where thicker trees lined the rough road. Juli's house was halfway there. They still hadn't turned on the front light.

 

_Alam ko na'ng mamahalin kita nung nahulog ako mula sa puno ng mabolo. Hindi mo man ako nasalo, ikaw ang unang tumulong at pumawi ng mga luha ko._

 

He reached the fence of the humble house. Juli's garden thrived all the more, even in the dark. He knocked once, twice, no answer from within. He called her name, Mang Tales, Tatang Selo. He gazed up to the shut windows of the rooms－still no flicker of a light. Basilio knocked again－the door creaked open. The knob was broken.

 

_Nagpapasalamat ako sa Diyos at nakilala kita. Ikaw ang katangi-tanging milagro sa buhay ko._

 

He stepped in and groped for the light switch. The living room was a mess: pillows flown about, cushions missing from their proper place, papers cluttered, and a lamp－one that had been there for years as their prized antique－was reduced to shards of glass. Basilio ran upstairs and flung the only two doors there: empty as though they had not been slept in. He didn't know what to think. He wouldn't dare think of it. Juli's locket glimmered against the moonlight, laid bare on her table.

 

_Alam mo, naniniwala na ko ngayon kay Tano. Si papa rin naman, pero wala raw siyang karapatan magreklamo. Kailangan pa rin niyang magtrabaho para lang may mapakain sa'min. Iniisip ko na ngang magtrabaho sa bayan (kung tatanggapin nila ako na high school lang ang natapos). Gusto kong mas makatulong pa rito, pero naiintindihan ko rin naman na kailangan ako ni tatang._

 

He ran downstairs, heading straight for the kitchen－there was nobody except a whimpering that came from behind. Basilio spun around, turning on another light. Tatang Selo cowered in the corner of the sink: hiding his face in his hands, whispering, shaking, talking to himself over and over, rocking back and forth.

 

"Kinuha sila... kinuha sila..."

 

Basilio knelt beside him. "Tatang Selo?"

 

"Kinuha sila... matagal na pong wala si Tano dito..."

 

"Tatang, nasaan sina Juli?"

 

"Huwag niyong kukunin si Juliana..."

 

"Tatang, sa'n nila dinala si Juli?"

 

"Wala akong alam... matagal nang hindi umuuwi si Tano... Tales itago mo si Juli..."

 

"Tatang..."

 

He urged the aged man to sit on a chair and wait. Tatang Selo's eyes were open but unseeing. Basilio offered him a glass of water and after that he no longer knew. He dashed outside the house, to wherever his feet could take him: away to the fields swaying in the night breeze, far from here and to the bridge crossing the river, to the grove of the forest, to somewhere else because there _had_  to be some place where Juli was. Perhaps she was hiding, playing him in this stupid joke. Perhaps she was up there in the treetops, stifling a laugh because he couldn't find her. Perhaps if he'd sing his old tune then she would be provoked enough to come out.

 

_Mag-iingat ka, mahal. Magdasal ka lang palagi. Hihintayin kita._

 

Sometimes he wished Juliana didn't like tagu-taguan so much.

 

_Hindi ka na kailanman mag-iisa._

 

.

 

_He remembered staring at her photograph, and what lay beyond it was the expanse of an avenue flooded with people. Here was a storm of marching and chanting, of shouts to an endless heaven and arms clasped to form a barricade. There were rosaries and stemmed roses lacking their thorns. Parked were tanks guarded by uniform men with their unused rifles. Thousands upon thousands flocked to dive right into this din._

_His heart was swelling, in spite of the hole growing bigger everyday when he would wake. He remembered Juliana－how he loved and lost her. He remembered how he couldn't save her, but never mind that. She never belonged to him, only to God. He remembered that whichever way he went, he'd still hope to find her._

_He raised his closed fist to the sky, marching on._

 

.

 

Basilio watched the bantayog fade from view. The black ribbons hanging about the fence, seemingly waving at him, fluttered into nothingness. The crawling pedicabs and vendors with their trays of candies descended into a colorful haze. He took out a twenty-peso bill, passing it on to the next person down to the outstretched hand of the driver.

 

"Isang senior citizen," he said. The passengers returned to him a few coins for change.

 

He put them in an empty compartment of his wallet－tucked behind the photo of a young woman with a radiant smile and tranquil eyes.


End file.
